Life as a playground

The weekend spent in Provincetown was delightful. We went to karaoke, had a couple great dinners, walked the beaches and piers, hung out, relaxed, built a fire, and had our portraits done. 

One night after dinner we walked the main drag called Commercial Street. A number of galleries were open, so we appreciated the art and spoke with strangers.
The major theme in the art was, of course, sailboats and sunsets, but there was one gallery with a photographer fresh off a trip from Chernobyl. His pictures were magical and gritty, capturing the rust of a once-built but never-opened amusement park (the disaster of Chernobyl occurring right before the grand opening).

Another artist, a painter, struck my eye with his landscapes of the city and the sea painted in blue tones, rather reminiscent of Picasso's Blue Period.

The following morning we hung out on a deck overlooking the Cape Cod Bay with a newly made friend smoking a bone, when I saw the ever-present blue tone across the beach horizon. It reminded me of the golden hues of California, how each land and culture has its own flavor and richness.

I asked our friendly neighbor whether he had ever been to Philadelphia and what color he saw when there. He answered in the affirmative, describing the city as grey and brown. It made me laugh. Personally, I saw red, envisioning the brick sidewalks and houses of Old City and Society Hill, but by and large, the city is rather colorless, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, it simply means we artists have an empty canvas to work with.

After talking about towns and cities, we hopped off the deck onto the beach and played in the sand, doing handstands and downward dogs, crows, splits, and warriors. I always have a fun time with spontaneous, informal yoga circles, especially when we're breathing in the sea breeze. 

Aye, what a wonderful time. I'm looking forward to returning in about two weeks, to Provincetown plus a visit to the coast of Maine, where I'll get a second-dose of marina life.